Code of the Boys
by pdragon76
Summary: Mary, John and Dean square away some Winchester ground rules.  Warning for schmoop.  Here there be schmoop aplenty.  And a teensy bit of language.


**Disclaimer: All things Supernatural belong to Kripke not me (Rinse & Repeat)**

**A/N: Unbeta'd so all niggles, wtf's and humdingers are mine, all mine. Inspired by challenge #16 over at foundficspn on lj. The schmoop factor of this fic is too high to be accurately calculated, but I estimate it to lie somewhere beyond the average reader's pain threshold, and for that I am truly sorry. Read at your own risk. Somewhere, underneath the schmoop, this is for D. Sometimes things are, and then they aren't anymore, and they never can be again. And even after all these years, I still wish it were not so for you, and I marvel at your keeping on. You have always amazed me.**

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'_It's the joy of life that makes us reckless_

_When life tastes so good, it just couldn't go bad_

_When you're laughing, and the moon is sailing high_

_And the morning sunlight splashes on the bed_

_---_

_And when I think of you_

_I start crying in the supermarket_

_That blonde checkout chick thinks I'm a nutcase_

_And when I think of you_

_I check I've got my seatbelt on_

_Change the battery in the smoke alarm_

_I test the chainbrake'_

_**- Chainbrake, Penenlope Swales**_

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"Read comics. That's gotta be on there somewhere."

John turned in the passenger seat, pressed his temple against the side of his headrest and looked at his son. Dean's face rounded, ruby cheeked, as he smiled, all neat little teeth in the booster seat. He hucked out a laugh, nodded.

"Eat candy?" Dean ventured, chin dipping and hands clasped in his lap.

"Eat candy?" John roared in mock horror, and from the driver seat beside him Mary adjusted the rear view mirror to meet Dean's eye.

"But not too much candy, right? And boys have to brush their teeth after too, just like the girls." Dean studied her reflection in the mirror, mouth open. John saw his eyebrow rise in imitation of her trademark arch. Kid looked so much like her sometimes it was scary.

Dean looked from his mother to his father, giggled when John scrunched up his nose and whispered: "Always hate girls. That's gotta be number one."

She hit him hard for that. Telegraphed out with a solid thump that sent him yelping against the passenger door, palm to his shoulder.

"Jesus, woman," he cried, choking back a laugh.

"Don't tell him that! Kid'll grow up with a complex." Mary tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder, blew a few stray strands out of her face. "And don't say Jesus. And don't call me woman."

John rubbed his shoulder.

"Why don't I just shut the fuck up then?"

"John!" The fist flew out again and this time he caught her wrist – _gently_ - chuckling.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

And he held her arm until she stopped struggling, turned it in his hand and pressed his mouth against the base of her palm, near the fine beaded gold of her bracelet. Against the whisper of blue veins beneath the silk of her skin. So fragile. The rush of her blood pulsing beneath his lips. Not just her pulse. Heart beating for two again. His belly fluttered.

"Just 'cause his Dad's a Marine, doesn't mean he has to talk like one."

Lips still against her arm, John smiled, angled his gaze up at her.

"You're right," he said. _You're always right. How could you be wrong?_

From the back seat, Dean returned him to the task at hand.

"What else, Daddy?"

Mary took her hand back and replaced it on the steering wheel, eyes on the road and a smile toying with her features. He should have known. _I mean, look at her_. But he hadn't guessed. She'd had to tell him. _How could I not have known? Not even last night. _He remembered his breath against her collarbone, her lips at his ear. That drunken feeling of knowing every inch of her; every contour, every breath, every silence. Every space. It twitched the corner of his lip in awe, to think of the secret she had withheld. Waiting. Biding. The perfect reveal. _My wife is a mystery. I know nothing._

He twisted back over the seat.

"Okay, kiddo. Well, there's always the video games. Boys gotta like video games."

"Even when they're bad at them?" Mary teased and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"One lucky game, lady. And you'll keep. You really will."

Mary straightened in the driver seat, caught Dean's eye again in the mirror.

"How about this, honey: Don't be a cry baby, even when your wife beats you at the video games. Maybe not in the top five, but it's still important."

Dean gave her a toothy grin, the words beyond him. But he understood her lilting tone well enough. And the crinkle at the edges of his father's eyes, as John lifted a hand to his lips and twitched his nose.

"We'll make that number 6. The cry baby thing. Or she'll get upset." And he managed to jerk his thumb in her direction before he spun away to block her third punch.

"Don't brag," Mary offered, and when John gave her a questioning frown, she dropped her voice and added, "As in, _Hey baby, I'm a Marine_."

The laughter that spilled out of him was spontaneous and genuine. "I never said that to you. I don't sound like that."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Oh, my God, you so did. Your daddy was a peacock, Dean. Can you say peacock?"

"Peacock," Dean said, and giggled. Mary wiggled her ass on the driver seat.

"Daddy shakes his tailfeathers?"

Dean jiggled in his booster seat and clapped. "Feathers."

"Oh my god, both of you? How can I fight that?" And his chest hurt. It actually hurt. _Don't brag? I'll fucking shout it from the mountaintops, Mary. You know it. I'm knocking on doors, starting right now. We're having another baby._

"So what if it's a girl? What happens to your new manly _Code of the Boys_ then, huh?" Mary glanced at him and her eyes were shining, full of Y_es and Us and This_. She licked her lips and he darted across the center console, kissed her ear hard.

"Never gonna happen."

Her laugh was light and incredulous. "How do you figure?" They were passing a line of elms and the sunlight strobed through the car window.

"Us Winchesters? In this family we have boys. No girls allowed."

_We should fill the world with Winchester girls, so the sun can bounce off 'em, just like that._

Mary gave him that lazy arc of her eyebrow. "I'm not even gonna bite at that. You know you're an asshole."

He pressed a finger to his jumping lips, eyes wide, pointed at Dean in the back seat. "Language."

Mary laughed. "What are you going to do if it _is_ a girl, tough guy?"

And John frowned, glanced at Dean. "Well, kiddo, that's where number seven comes into play."

"Number seven," Dean repeated, holding up both hands and not enough fingers.

She slowed the car for a stoplight, dropped her hands to her thighs and eyed him suspiciously.

"What the hell is number seven?"

John pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows and nodded. Brought a hand up in readiness for Mary's fourth strike.

"Be strong."

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Thanks for reading :-) Pdragon76 


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